Sunday, May 25, 2008
The sweetest dreams are of fat horses on a summer day. The saddest mornings are waking after these dreams. Chief Joseph's dreams of spotted horses in Wallowa pines must have been haunting. Perhaps all the more so because his nightmares were real.
Falls apart and holds together--which is which?
The people and the stories and birds in the trees pile memories like blankets at potlatch for mornings when fog obscures the path and chills the bones.
And we cook salmon by a campfire and talk of stealing fat horses.
--Jay Taber, July 2004